Red Hot Peaches
by Ferdykins
Summary: Sit back and see what happens on a hot summer day at a peach stand with Clark, Lois, Chloe, and a little Red-K mixed in for fun. A risque' little romp full of lots of heat, sticky sweets, and innuendos.
1. Red Hot Peaches Chapter 1

Disclaimer- The usual. As much as I wish I owned these characters, I do not. I am just playing in their world. Please don't sue me--you will be very disappointed at how little I'm really worth.

Author: Jennifer Rouch (Ferd/Ferdykins)

Genre- Comedy/Humor

Pairing- Clark/Lois and a little Chloe

Rating- PG-13

The morning sun is already making the day a blistering one. Tiny beads of sweat trickle down Lois' neck, finding their way between her breasts which are pushing the strength of the lycra in her tank top beyond capacity.

"What, no one's heard of actual material out here in the sticks?" Lois says, lifting her bare thighs off of the vinyl truck seat, her skin sticking to it from the heat in the cab. "I mean I'm all for easy clean up, but what kind of moron covers a seat in plastic and expects it to be comfortable?" she says, repositioning herself in the seat, the suction of her skin peeling away from the moist vinyl creating a noise that Clark can't help but laugh at.

She shoots him a pair of flaming green eyes, holding herself off of the seat, trying hard to stay out of the puddles her own perspiration have made on the truck seat.

"Don't start with me Smallville," she snarls, pinching the front of her top with her fingers, fanning herself with the the fabric in a brisk motion.

Clark returns his eyes to the road, not doing a good job at holding back a smile. He can't help but take pleasure in her predicament. Lois always seems to relish making light of his discomfort, and for once it was nice to have the upper hand over her.

As the truck bumps along the dirt road, the rough terrain sends Lois back down into the damp spot she was balancing on one hand to avoid. The fall twisting her wrist, now adding pain to her reasons to spew venom.

"Are paved roads just too advanced a concept for you bumpkins to grasp?" Lois asks, as usual not giving Clark a moment to respond. "I guess you're all still adjusting from the move up from horse and buggy," she adds, determined to make the short ride as uncomfortable for Clark as it is for her.

Annoyed at how Lois seems to never tire of attacking all the simplicities in life he and his family enjoy, Clark purposely steers the truck over a wash out in the road, the jarring drop-off sending her small frame flying up in the cab, bumping her head against the roof.

"Oww!" she cries out, rubbing her head, continually checking her hand for blood.

Seeing how hard she hit instantly makes him regret his action. "I'm sorry Lois," he offers, genuinely feeling bad for hurting her. "Are you okay?"

"If the whole steering of the big wheel is too much for you to master, maybe you should slide over and let me handle it," she snaps, reaching for her purse, to dig out some aspirin. "I'm sure even with my concussion I can drive better than you."

If only he could take back his apology. She seemed to only gain strength from it. He was slowly beginning to realize that the only way to live with Lois Lane was to battle her with words. To give her a taste of her own medicine.

"You know Lois, if you were wearing your seat belt you probably wouldn't have hit your head," he says, watching for a reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"I've ridden in tanks, in humvees, in helicopters without a need for a safety restraint, I figured I was safe to go a mile up the road in this thing without having my head cracked open."

"You know you didn't have to come," Clark quips back, thinking to himself how pleasant this ride would've been to take alone.

"What, and miss out on all this fun?" she says sarcastically. "Don't worry Clark, I'll find another way to home," she adds popping two aspirin into her mouth, making them disappear in a single swallow.

Her talent to swallow pills without water causes Clark's eyes to widen in amazement. Although she appeared as delicate as a flower, he knew she was indeed was made of something stronger than steel.

"Ugh," she sighs, fanning herself with her hand. "My God, is like a thousand degrees in here? I thought you said it was just up the road," she says, now leaning on her side, still trying to keep her bare thighs from clinging to the truck bench seat.

He simply passes her a side glance, not sure he knows what to say, but having a feeling she still can find a way to rebut.

His silence annoying her, she leans over punching him in the arm with her good hand. "Hey! Farm boy, Don't you think when the mercury hits 300 it's time to shed the layers? Hand over the flannel," she says, tugging on his rolled up sleeve.

"What?" Clark asks, embarrassed by her request.

"Oh, relax. I've seen what you've got to offer, I just want the shirt, not the goods underneath it," she says, sliding closer towards him. "Come on Clark, hand it over," she insists, motioning with her hand.

"Why do you want my shirt? I thought you were hot."

"I don't want to wear it, I want to sit on it. Anything's better than sitting on this cheap excuse for a car seat," she says . "Now hand it over."

Leaning over towards him she starts unbuttoning his flannel over shirt, tackling his chest with a flurry of hands. Before he can take his hands off the steering wheel to fight her, she already has the shirt sliding off his shoulders.

Powerless around her, Clark gives in to her request. He takes of his flannel shirt the rest of the way, revealing only a thin blue T-shirt stretched over his muscular chest.

Lois snatches the shirt from him, balling it up into a makeshift chair cover, placing it under her legs.

"Ah, that's better," she breathes, adjusting into the soft cloth. "I guess flannel really is good for something."

She cranks up the air conditioner, turning all the vents to blow the cool air just on her. Finally it appears she is at a comfortable temperature, and the proof can't help but make Clark shift uneasily behind the wheel.

Clark and Lois hop out of the truck not a second too soon, setting their feet down into the dirt lot in the back of the Smallville Farmer's market.

"You can go ahead and head to the booth, I can handle this" Clark says, longing for a moment of peace and quiet, knowing he could unload the bed of the truck a lot faster without Lois's watchful eyes over his shoulder.

"I think I can handle carrying some fruit a few yards" Lois says, pushing him to the side with her hand on his chest. "Besides, I told your parents I would help you out," she says, grabbing up two bushel baskets of peaches into each arm, starting off into the market.

Clark follows her lead, carrying double her load, but still only a sliver of what he's really capable of.

Heading through the crowded market, Lois struggles to appear comfortable carrying the heavy load, despite how it's breaking her back. She looks over to Clark, annoyed that he has yet to even break a sweat.

"Nice peaches," a voice calls out, sending Lois to spin around to find the source.

A guys selling odds and ends at a booth is leaned far over the table, not exactly admiring the fruit in the baskets.

"Hey how about a bite there, Peaches?" the guy asks, continuing with his cat calls.

"How about you bite yourself?" Lois yells back, not stopping to wait for his response.

Clark watches in awe, surprised how it seems she fails to be phased by anyone or anything. As he passes by the booth he glances over the guy, not able to understand how anyone could be so disrespectful to a woman, well, to Lois.

Clark Kent peddling peaches couldn't help but amuse Lois. The pride he takes in the little pine booth can't help but make her laugh, despite the fact that she was bored to tears.

"How long do we have to stay here?" she asks, fixing her hair up in an elastic band, not paying any attention to the would be customers mulling around the table.

"You can go look around if you want," Clark says. "My parents should be along before too long. I can handle it until then."

In a single quick gesture, she hops off the table, grabbing up a peach in her hand, taking a big bite.

"See ya later, Smallville," she says, with her mouth full, throwing her hand up in a wave, her ponytail bouncing on air as she fades out of view.

Lois comes back to the booth gleaming with a new found joy that can't help but worry Clark.

"What's up Lois, did you get to kick a puppy on your way back here?" Clark asks, flashing his bright white smile, his eyes sparkling.

In a gesture becoming reflex, Lois slugs Clark in the forearm. "No, I found Chloe the perfect gift," she says, holding out a small white box in front of his face.

"For Chloe?" Clark asks, racking his mind for what event he forgot to buy a gift for.

"It's a graduation gift, Clark. Don't worry, you didn't forget her birthday," Lois quips, sarcastically tapping him on the shoulder in a seemingly sympathetic gesture.

Clark can't help but be frustrated at how it seems Lois is always able to read his mind. He just couldn't understand why it wasn't Lana that possessed that talent. Why of all the women in the world, it only seemed that Lois knew how he felt down deep most of the time?

"Do you buy gifts for graduation?" Clark asks, wondering to himself what he could do for Lana and Chloe.

"Uh, yeah," she says, rolling her eyes at him.

"What do you get someone for Graduation?" Clark asks, having been raised a boy he's severely gift giving deficient.

"Well, I purchased a lovely piece of jewelry at a deep discount," Lois practically beams.

"You bought jewelry? Here?" Clark asks, cocking an inquisitive brow.

"Chloe prefers vintage," Lois responds,"and I purchased a lovely little red ruby charm bracelet."

"Vintage at a deep discount? I think you got ripped off," Clark beams a smile, finally finding an instance when his small town wits bested her brassy, big city brains.

"I think she'll love it. After all, it's the thought that counts and my thought is twice as valuable as yours."

"Perhaps you could ask her yourself," Clark spins Lois around to see Chloe bounding up towards them.

"Oh, crap!" Lois hunts frantically for a place to hide her present. "Here," she stuffs the box in Clark's pocket, "hold this for me."

Clark loses his balance for a second, stepping back weakly.

"What's with you?" Lois wrinkles her nose indignantly.

Clark beams red soaked eyes back at Lois. "Nothing. I'm fine, Peaches."


	2. Red Hot Peaches Chapter 2

The sound of Clark's chauvinistic zinger still stings Lois's ears. "That's not funny, farmboy." She shoves him angrily, but he doesn't give, as if immovable steel, and she falls back hard to the ground.

"Ow," she says rubbing her backside. "What has your mom been feeding you lately?"

"She makes me drink a lot of milk," Clark says, "and cookies."

"Well, it's doing your body too good. You're like a brick wall or something," she says still waiting for him to help her off of the ground. Giving up on that notion, she hops up herself.

Clark lets his eyes go down her, pausing over all the right places. "You've had your fair share of milk I see," he says, talking to her breasts and not her face. "It's done your body real good."

Lois disengages, for the first time keenly aware of the tank tops she prefers to wear in this sun baked village.

"Hey cuz," Chloe voice calls out, sending Lois to spin around to face her, her ponytail whipping around, her hair slapping him across the face.

"Who would've thought we'd find you up at this hour, and surrounded by fruit no less?" Chloe asks looking around, confirming her location, all the while possessing her typical sarcastic tone and grin.

"They're peaches," Clark says trying to get Lois's attention back.

"And he's the biggest fruit of them all," Lois says whipping her head back around, slapping him again with her long hair, anxious to see what effect that remark had on Clark. She hopes for a hurt grin or a disdainful glare, but instead she get a lascivious smirk.

Chloe can't help but notice where Clark's eyes are, so she subtly tries to place herself between them.

Completely bewildered by Clark's behavior, Lois thinks it best to shrug it off and concentrate her attention on Chloe.

"Well for some reason the idiots out here think it's normal to wake up with the chickens and peddle fruit in the million degree heat," Lois says, the moment of pleasure her jewelry find allotted now gone with the wind.

Chloe laughs, all too familiar with Lois's outspoken disdain towards all things Smallville. Although being herself not too fond of the outdoor market and scorching heat, she understood what, or rather who it was that jolted her out of bed early this Saturday morning with a smile on her face. What she didn't get was what it was that catapulted Lois out of bed.

"Clark," Chloe whispers leaning towards him, unwillingly placing herself on display under his now uninhibited gaze. "I'm surprised you asked her along, you should've known what you'd be in for," Chloe says with a smile, always happy to tell Clark I told you so.

Seeing that his gaze did not line up with her eyes, she looks down, suddenly aware his eyes were focusing on a region of her body she was surprised to learn he knew existed. Despite being caught red handed, he continued to follow the trickles of sweat southward, licking his lips as though he was imagining the salty sweet taste of her skin

Also noticing this, Lois not so subtly forces herself between her cousin and Clark.

"Eyes off the goods there perv," Lois says, forcing herself between Chloe and Clark. "If you want to salivate over something go grab yourself a magazine and make a day of it."

Chloe goes crimson, not sure to be offended or elated that she just had to be rescued from Clark's lustful gaze. As much as she wanted to relish the moment of being the object of Clark Kent's affection, she knew there had to be something more to it. How sad she thought, that the only thing that truly could spark any real interest in her would have to stem from yet another meteor rock induced ability. But what could it be?

"A little jealous, aren't we Peaches?" Clark asks practically smacking his lips.

"Do you really want to go there, Smallville?" Lois asks, peering her eyes through him, her chest puffed up like a tiny ticked-off rooster unaware of its own size.

"Why not? It could be one hell of a ride," Clark says.

A little thrown off her game by his quick uncharacteristic remarks, Lois remains silent for longer than she ever has in the company of Clark Kent. Finally finding her words, but still unsure of what just happened she takes a defiant step towards him, ready to make him eat his words.

"Well, you may be able to grow the peaches there farm boy, but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have a clue what to do if you got your hands on a real pair."

Ready to prove her wrong, he cracks his knuckles, his large hands all too prepared to meet with the only soft part of Lois Lane. Without hesitation he moves in, his sparkling eyes seeming to delight in the impending pleasure.

Chloe jumps in the line of fire, grabbing Clark by the arm, dragging him away, which he allows a little too eagerly.

"Looking for a little alone time?" Clark asks, "I'm into that."

"Lois watch the booth, Clark needs a walk," Chloe says starting off into the crowd. "I think the heat has gone to his head."

"Yeah, which one?" Lois says, poised on her toes, clenching her fists and jaw.


	3. Red Hot Peaches Chapter 3

Chloe's kung-fu grip is no match for Clark's strength and power, yet he delights in the pleasure of being led, confident he'll have the upper hand in a mere moment. He plays along following her through the crowd, also enjoying the scenery of Chloe's derierre.

"Clark," Chloe says stopping short, blinking her eyes with concern as she turns to face him. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Never better," he says curling his lips, his eyes flickering in the bright sunlight. "How are you feeling?" he asks, leaning back to take a better look at her assets, her low riding jeans seeming to be an open invitation. Without giving her a moment to respond, he decides to see for himself, squeezing her butt, his animal like growl punctuating his pleasure.

"Clark!" she squeals, jumping free of his grasp, her eyes flying wide open, reeling out of shock from his firm hand on her body. "What was that for?" she asks, knowing right after the words flew out of her mouth they were the wrong ones to speak, for the look on his face proved he was about to show her.

His large frame fills the space between them, without hesitation he cups his large hands around her backside, thrusting her petite frame up to meet him face to face. Their eyes lock, gazing deep into eachother, each searching for something different.

The thrill of being held in Clark Kent's hands was leaving Chloe almost breathless. As he exhaled she gently inhaled, breathing in his air, tasting his sweet breath. Their proximity and locked gaze was dizzying her, making it seem as though they were the only two people standing on the earth. The euphoric sensation of being prey to his will made her wonder how long he would hold her there, a deep part of her praying it would be an eternity.

As her heart pounds in her chest, the echo fills her ears with a steady thud. Despite its volume, she could still hear her own thoughts swirling through her head, their stark contrasts confusing her more than the situation.

The primal part of Chloe wanted to submit to his power, lose herself in his eyes. She could feel herself tingling with anticipation, deeply longing to escape into the scenario that was unfolding before her. Yet, despite how many nights she had laid awake dreaming that somehow, one day, Clark Kent might finally see her as an object worthy of his desire, she knew with every fiber of her being that such a change in him could not arise without being triggered by something. The sensible side of Chloe knew something had happened to him, altering him, causing him to behave in this manner. For within his eyes she did not see a familiar reflection. She saw no respect, no friendship, no tender sincerity. She saw only an unbridled lust for pleasure. A pool of heat flooding from his eyes, sending waves of warm desire through her body, making her almost powerless to his needs.

Her will to find the truth outweighing her most basic human urges, she firmly plants her hands on his shoulders, wiggling herself free from his grasp. Having enough of the defiant act, he rolls his eyes. releasing his hands, sending her towards the ground. He turns away from her, leaving her stumbling to find her footing on both the ground and in her predicament.

"Clark, we need to talk," she calls out to him, dusting the seat of her jeans off, desperately trying to keep up with him as he disappears into the crowd.

As he plows through the market his large frame parts the sea of people, knocking them away with his impenetrable body, disregarding their presence, not looking back at the ones who screamed at him in protest of his actions.

"I'm sorry," Chloe says several times, passing sympathetic eyes to the ones unfortunate enough to have stood in his path. She bends down to pick up a woman's brown bag of vegetables, handing it to her. "He's just in a hurry," she says, trying hard to make excuses for Clark's behavior.

Clark stops in front of one of the booths, something on the table catching his eye. He reaches over, snatching it up, a sly grin creeping across his lips. In a quick motion he slides off his undershirt, revealing his perfectly chiseled chest, his skin beautifully bronzed and glowing in the warm sunlight.

Chloe freezes dead in her tracks, her mouth open, gazing at the adonis standing before her. In her mind she can feel her hands gliding down his rippled abs, her knees shaking at the prospect of it. _"Oh my God,"_she breathes to herself, taking her eyes from the top of his broad shoulders, down his V-shaped form to his waist, cursing the flannel that ever was so bold to cover such luxury.

He raises his arms to put on his new found treasure, a solid black T-shirt whose cotton knit stretches over his muscular chest like it's painted on.

Despite her disappointment that any material had to cover his skin, the black shirt was nice change from his typical americana palette of red and blue. _"A bad boy in black"_, she thinks to herself, arching her eyebrows in delight. She feels her mouth watering, so she quickly swallows, unblinking as she keeps her eyes on him.

He pulls his shoulders back, and for a brief moment Chloe thinks the skin tight t-shirt might be reduced to shreds by the flexing of his massive muscles. He smoothes the shirt against his chest with his hands, pleased with his new threads.

"That'll be five-dollars," the man at the booth demands, holding his hand out for payment.

Clark curls his lips into an sadistic grin, tossing his balled up undershirt in the man's face. He turns his back to Chloe and the man, starting back into the mass of people before him, not offering a cent of payment.

"Well, that ruins it," Chloe says out loud, now seeing the pudgy little Pillsbury doughboy screen printed to the back of what otherwise was a very sexy black T-shirt.

"Hey, you're going to pay for that!" the man demands, shaking his balled up fist in the air, his voice drawing the attention of the other merchants, but lost on Clark despite his super hearing abilities.

Chloe, snapped out of her fantasy and now frantic that Clark just added kleptomania to today's list of unexplainable wheaties weirdness, tries her best to diffuse the situation. "He didn't mean to do that. He doesn't know what he's doing," Chloe says, trying to keep a close eye on Clark who was disappearing quickly into the crowd.

"He didn't mean to?" the man asks sarcastically, not buying Chloe's excuse.

"I promise he really didn't mean to steal it, he's just..uh...special, okay? " Chloe offers, digging into her purse for the cash to cover the cost of the shirt.

"He doesn't look retarded," the guy says, not buying Chloe's cover story.

"He's not retarded," she says, pushing a five-dollar bill into the man's hand. "He's just not himself today."

She hurriedly runs after Clark, catching up with him just in time to see him snatch a pair of black Ray Bans right off a poor guy's face, pushing him down to the ground with enough force to knock the breath out of him.

"Clark!" she screams, in shock that he would jump to such extremes to accessorize. She goes to the breathless man on the ground, staring wide astonished eyes towards Clark who without hesitation puts on his new sunglasses, not caring that he threw someone to the ground to obtain them. He stands erect, his smile possessing a heir of evil that unsettles Chloe. Letting out a laugh he turns the doughboy towards her yet again, not caring that he was leaving Chloe to put out the fires his bold actions ignited.

Lois sits atop the table in the Kent's booth, holding a half eaten peach in one hand, sucking her fingers clean on the other. Her lips delight in the sweetness of it, and apparently her friend from earlier in the day is enjoying the show she is unknowingly putting on for him. She takes a bite, sending the succulent fruit's juice down her chin, dotting her tank top and chest with the sweet nectar. Looking around first, she lifts the bottom of her tank top up to her mouth, using it as a napkin, the act revealing her tanned abdomen to half the market. Still feeling covered in juice, she slips her finger down into her top, doing her best to wipe the sticky liquid from her skin with her moist finger.

"Want to borrow my tongue there, Peaches?" the guy calls out, now just feet from her.

Lois sets the peach down beside her, her green eyes lighting up, her lips tightening into a smirk. How sad that out of all the women to torment on a day like today, he chose the one who not only could lay him out flat, but would take immense pleasure in doing so.

She hops off the table, placing her hands on her hips, swaggering towards him, using her chest as a weapon as she backs him into a corner.

"Care to say that again?" she asks him, indignantly blinking her eyes at him, just waiting for him to say the right word.

"You're a little spitfire, ain't ya?" the guy says, like a moron thinking that he's winning here.

"Spitfire? What did they teach you that in redneck 101?" Lois quips.

The man obviously is at a loss on how to respond, not having a clue what the numbers meant at the end of her sentence.

Lois smiles, this is almost too easy for her. Just when she's going in for the kill, her prey is snatched out from in front of her by Clark's powerful hands.

"You need to learn some manners," Clark boldly orders, holding the unfortunate fellow by the back of his shirt, his feet dangling above the ground.

Lois shifts her seething glare from Joe Redneck to Clark, her blood boiling, fuming that Clark in some delusion of heroic grandeur took it upon himself to swoop in and save her.

"I appreciate the whole Errol Flynn routine you got going here, but I am far from a damsel and even further from distress," Lois says, glaring up into his eyes.

"Okay, if you think you're doing okay," Clark drops the redneck to the ground, "please continue," he says flashing a beaming smile, crossing his arms across his chest waiting for the show.

Lois is eager to get back to scorning her unwelcome suitor, she digs her feet in to the dirt and cocks her head forward aggressively.

"You broke my rhythm, farmboy," Lois deflates, unable to think of an insult for the redneck.

Clark grabs the redneck's shirt and lifts him back off of the ground.

"So, you don't mind if I continue?" Clark asks.

"I most certainly do! Clark, I don't know what they teach you out here in the sticks," Lois begins, Clark being bored by the prospect of a lecture drops the redneck again. "But, in the real world, stepping in like you just did robs a woman of all of her power, and I, for one, don't like being powerless."

"Can I go, now?" the redneck asks. Clark picks him back up to shut him up.

"I don't know what part of the world you come from Lois, but chivalry is not dead. Women out here tend to get off from being saved."

"The day I swoon at a tall, blue eyed saint swinging down to save me, is the day I eat your sizable boots," Lois says, finding her groove.

"You two should really be left alone," the redneck intones pitifully. Bored with him, Clark wheels around and tosses him on his way. When Clark spins, Lois gets a good look at the back of his shirt.

"Tough shirt you got on there, Pillsbury," Lois says, cracking up. When Clark turns back to her, she gives him a playful poke in the stomach, her finger finding a way to trace the contours of his rock hard abdominal muscles, lingering a little longer than it should. She breaks away from him, a little embarrassed by it.

"Fine, well since you seem to be more than capable to handle the onslaught of peach lovers around here, I think I'll leave you to it," Lois says, giving him a slug in the arm.

"I'm going to go ahead and take this back before you go and take the credit for it," Lois says, digging into his pocket for the small white box with the bracelet she bought for Chloe.

The second the red kryptonite jeweled bracelet leaves him, he stumbles backwards, blinking bewildered eyes towards her.

"Lois?" he says with his voice cracking. He takes off the black sunglasses, getting a better look at her with unhindered eyes. He looks down at his shirt, looking back at her completely bewildered.

"Clark, you look like you did when I first met you," Lois says, not in the mood to deal with a lost puppy again. "Don't tell me, another case of amnesia," she adds, rolling her eyes at him. "You really need to stay out of the sun."

"Clark! There you are," Chloe calls out from across the aisle, breathless from her desperate attempt to keep up with his superspeed.

"Oh crap," Lois says, her eyes widening, aware she's holding Chloe's surprise gift in her hands. Without thinking she quickly stashes it down the front of Clark's pants, igniting once again the red flames in his eyes, just in time for Chloe's arrival.

Lois groans, realizing what she's just done. Squinching her face up into a twist and squealing "iccckkkkk," she wipes her hand off on Chloe's shirt.


	4. Red Hot Peaches Chapter 4

"What are you wiping on me?" Chloe asks, looking down at her shoulder with a turned up nose.

"I was just wiping some peach juice off of my hand. My fingers were all sticky," Lois confidently reassures Chloe by giving her a pat on the shoulder, hoping she didn't somehow see her shove the bracelet down Clark's pants.

"Well thanks for making me all sticky," Chloe says, backing away from Lois' touch. Clark cracks up laughing at the thought of Lois making Chloe sticky, his outburst begging for Lois to send another power punch into his arm. Instead she opts for threatening him with her pointed finger, seeming to somewhat delight in being able to poke him again. "Watch it there, Doughboy."

"What is with you two today?" Chloe asks, looking at both Lois and Clark with a wrinkled brow.

"Nothing's up with me," Lois says, gesturing with her eyes that the jury was still out on Clark.

Recalling her need to get to the bottom of Clark's bizarre behavior, and preferably away from the scrutinizing eyes of Lois Lane who remained in the dark about Clark's unique freakdom, Chloe walks over to him and softly whispers, "Clark, I think we need to go somewhere and talk."

Clark rolls his eyes, having already seen Chloe wasn't into pursuing the kind of fun he felt like having.

"I'd rather stay and _talk_ to her," he says winking at Lois. "Besides, she actually knows the right words to say."

His verbal slap in the face stung her. Afterall, what is his fascination with girls whose parents only hovered around the L part of the alphabet? Just when she thought he was on the down slope of his obsession with all things Lana Lang, it suddenly was apparent that his eyes were beginning to notice the appeal of one Lois Lane. _"There are other letters in the alphabet you know? Lots of them. Cool letters like C, the same one you have in your own name_, Chloe lectured Clark in her mind, all the while cursing her parents for not naming her Lauren, or Lara, or Liz, and hating her ancestors for being Sullivans.

"_Wait, Lex has a double L name...," _Chloe thought. _"Okay, I'm not even going to go there_," she tells herself, shaking off the bizarre thought that had entered her mind.

"I don't have anything to talk to you about," Lois quips, her long ponytail bouncing as she bobs her head with her words, like a preschooler taunting him on the playground. "I doubt I even speak your native language," she adds, the irony of her own statement lost on her.

He grins, gaining strength from her taunts. "I think I might have something I can talk to Chloe about after all," he says grinning, letting his eyes go down to the lump in his pants created by the box.

Chloe's eyes widen.

"No, I don't think you do," Lois says, threatening to pierce Clark with the daggers from her eyes if he were to expose her secret.

"Oh, I think I do," Clark says, enjoying the taunting of Lois, and the teasing of Chloe way too much. "And I think you had it in your hand just a minute ago," he adds, widening his feet in a confident stance.

"What?" Chloe asks, only to be quickly interrupted by Lois pressing her to the side to get to Clark.

"First of all I didn't just have anything in my hand," Lois says, doing the best to intimidate him by hoisting her small frame up to meet him face to face. "And second of all you don't have anything either of us want. You got that, Smallville?" she adds, her eyes running down him.

Chloe gasps, they couldn't be talking about what she thinks they're talking about. Or could they?

"I can pull it out if you want me to," Clark offers with grin that can't help but make Lois uneasy.

"I think it's fine right where it is," she insists, unable to keep up with her own retorts.

Chloe's hand covers he mouth, and her eyes can't help but be drawn to the lump in Clark's jeans. She never had noticed such a protrusion until now, but it never was a source of conversation before either. Little did she know that the extra package in Clark's pants was a gift for her stashed there by her cousin.

"I think Chloe would really like to see it," Clark grins, batting back Lois' quips as fast as she serves them up.

"See what?" Chloe asks, thinking perhaps Clark was right. If it is what she thinks it is she would be so tempted to take a look. Besides, after all the time she invested in him, most recently with hiding his secret, why should anyone see his hidden gifts but her?

Lois and Clark were too involved in eachother to hear Chloe's questions, or see her jumping up to their eye level.

"I think Chloe has seen enough from you, Pillsbury. Now just keep it where it is," Lois commands.

So she was right. They were talking about the doughboy. Chloe could hardly believe her ears. If she wasn't so preoccupied with her own thoughts of picturing the thing for herself, she might have been ready to snatch Lois' ponytail and pull her to the ground for ever being so bold to try to deny her of seeing it. Just then Clark twisted enough to reveal the chubby little cartoon chef on the back of his shirt. _"Oh, that Doughboy,"_ Chloe says, in a way relieved that Lois didn't choose such a humorous nickname for Clark's masculinity.

Clark takes his eyes off of Lois, seeing something in the distance. In a move almost reflex, he grabs Lois by the shoulders, picking her up, moving her to the side, as though she weighed no more than a peach pit. The strength in his large hands astounded her to silence, she was unable to do anything but blink as she felt weak and oddly safe in his hands.

Chloe's keen senses took her to the source of Clark's attention; Mr. and Mrs. Kent just a few yards away, stopped at the cabbage stand.

"Oh no you don't," Lois whispers defiantly. "You're not going anywhere until you give me what you've got."

"If you want it, come get it," Clark enthuses brushing past Lois, dead set on getting away from the only buzz kill more potent than Chloe: his parents.

Worried that her present for Chloe will be lost, Lois charges after him, bumping through the crowd to keep up.

Chloe looks to the Kents, sure that if anyone knew what was the matter with Clark, it would be them. However, to seek their assistance would be to reveal her knowledge of Clark's secrets, a hand she didn't want to play just yet. Chloe was certain that in this state, whatever state it was, Clark needed protection from himself and the best person for that task, at this moment, was herself. Hopefully, she would be able to clear up whatever it was that's cross wired Clark's brain.

Not to mention, there was still that issue with that bulge in Clark's pants.


	5. Red Hot Peaches Chapter 5

"Mr. Kent. Mrs. Kent," Chloe begins, her eyes quickly darting between the rapidly disappearing duo of Lois and Clark, to the Kents standing before her. "I'm sorry but Clark and Lois just had to go, um, they had to go take care of something," Chloe says, her odd statement causing them to look at each other.

"Just what did they have to do?" Jonathan asks, not fully understanding what could be so important that his son would leave a month's worth of crop unattended.

"Well, I think Clark is really hot, I mean, I think he got too hot," Chloe says, now crimson from her freudian slip. Desperately trying to recover she smiles, trying to play it off . "I mean you know sometimes the heat can make people do silly things," she adds with a giggle.

Reeling with embarrassment, she sees Martha putting together the equation most would assume; Clark and Lois went off together much to the dismay of the forlorn Chloe. Martha can't help but flash a pair of sympathetic eyes at Chloe, once knowing herself how it felt to be a fifth wheel.

Chloe had much bigger fish to fry right now than to accept pity from the man of her dream's mother. Something was up with Clark, and she had to know what. He was not acting normal, well, he was acting much more abnormal than the usual bizarre Clark Kent behavior. She had to get to the bottom of it, and fast, but before she has to clarify to Mrs. Kent what she believes was misunderstood.

"I didn't mean that Clark's hot like that. He's not hot for Lois. I'm not saying he's hot for me, either. I don't think he's hot for anyone, he's just hot; temperature wise, because it's hot out here," Chloe says, with every word digging her hole deeper. If she continues on she's going to need a ladder to climb out. Yet, like one of those wind up monkey toys she just beats on as if she possesses no better sense, thoroughly convinced she can clarify the root of her statement about Clark's hotness with more explanations.

"The heat has obviously gotten to his head because he was talking about what's in his pants," Chloe says, hoping her statement will clue them in on the fact that Clark is acting bizarre. Yet it is apparent on Jonathan and Martha's faces that they can't seem to get past the issue of Chloe mentioning what's in Clark pants.

Jonathan cracks his mouth quizzically, about to form a question when Chloe cuts him off. "Don't worry I haven't seen what's in his pants. I mean, there's nothing in his pants," Chloe offers matter-of-factly. Suddenly realizing that last statement came off wrong, she continues, "I didn't mean he's a freak Ken Doll or something, of course he has something in his pants. I just don't know what it is. Well, I do know what it is. I just haven't seen it. I mean, I've seen pictures in magazines and all, but not of him, of course! Not that I want to see..." Chloe trails off finally realizing that no amount of verbal acrobatics is going to get her out of this predicament. Finally, she bites her own bottom lip to keep it from flapping.

Martha and Jonathan appear like they have been hit by the hurricane of explanations that is Chloe Sullivan. Despite her desire to subtly clue them in on Clark's behavior, all she really seemed to accomplish was striking fear into their hearts that their son finally was beginning to have a libido to match the rest of his super sized traits. If only Chloe knew the one key to share with them about his sudden change in attitude; the freeing little rock that is red kryptonite. Unfortunately, the primer to this mystery was snugly nestled into the crotch of Clark's jeans, where it could just continue to fuel this chaotic behavior. the dark side of himself Clark seems to be enjoying so much.

**XxXxXxXxX**

"Clark! Don't make me chase you," Lois yells, not far behind him simply because he was allowing her to keep up.

"I want what's in your pants right now!" she demands, her comment enticing the attention of every man in what seems to be a twenty-mile radius.

"I can give you something right now, Darling," a thick, raspy voice calls out.

"Honey, I got something I need to show you real bad," another hick yells out.

Able to ignore the offers from the sleazy men who wished to share the hidden treasures of their trousers with her, Lois continues on with her demands. "Clark, I swear if you don't give it to me right now I'm going to take a lot more than that from you."

Clark pauses, looking over his shoulder, offering her a tease of a grin, and a quick wink of his eye. "Bring it on, Peaches."

As though a bull fueled by the bright flash of the color red, Lois grabs the nearest thing to her, a banana from the booth beside her, then quickly hurls it full steam right at the Doughboy's head.

The boomerang of fruit hits him with enough force to knock a normal man over, but Clark Kent is far from normal. He feels no more than a flick from a flea, not even bothered enough to stop his pursuit out of the market.

Lois' eyes now blaze, as though ignited by the fiery pits of hell. Fueled by her raging temper she charges towards him. Without thinking, and with the dexterity of a mountain lion she leaps onto his back, latching her arms and legs around him with the best death grip her power can muster.

"Ride'em cowgirl!" an entertained hick yells out, causing a stir of whoops and hollers.

Clark's lips curl into a tempted smile, regardless of what she thinks, he is indeed the one in control of the situation. He reaches back, grabbing her arms with his massive hands, lifting her off his back, flipping her acrobatically over his head, planting her feet in the ground in front of him. The swiftness of his motion, and the strength he possesses can't help but impress her despite her disdain for him at the moment. She stands breathless with her eyebrows arched trying to compose herself after his checkmate move.

"That was impressive, Pillsbury. Sling a lot of hay do you?"

"You're a lot more fun to fling than hay," he says confidently, his eyes sparkling in the bright sun. "Speaking of tumbling hay, do you want to try that move of yours again, but this time with you on the front?" Clark says with a devious grin, his perfectly chiseled incisors making him appear like a werewolf on the prowl.

It seemed that the combination of red hot heat and sticky peaches had intoxicated Clark Kent with the ability to one up Lois in retorts and strength. Being shown up in traits she lettered in was not something she was ready to concede. Finding the flames in her eyes once more she clenches her fists, taking a step closer towards him.

"Give it to me," she says through her teeth, ready to attack again if her demands are not met.

Clark is enjoying himself too much to stop. "Let's find some fun first, okay?"


	6. Red Hot Peaches Chapter 6

Lois is not in the mood to be toyed with. Well, honestly she would never be in the mood to be toyed with by Clark Kent, regardless of how well he filled out that black t-shirt. Sick and tired of this ridiculous chase, she reaches towards him, ready to dig the bracelet out of his jeans. Clark can't let it go, fully aware it's that little bracelet that is making him feel so alive and uninhibited. He takes a large step back, keeping the prize just out of her reach again.

"Listen farm boy, I'm not going to sit here and play games with you. This is not _'fun time,"_ she says, quoting the words with her fingers. "Now hand it over and nobody will get hurt," she insists, motioning 'give it' with her outstretched hand.

Clark laughs, knowing all too well there's no way on Earth, or any other planet, that Lois Lane could hurt him. Completely relishing the opportunity to push her buttons, he reaches out, and slaps her hand, giving her five like a little boy on a school yard. "I can do it on the side, and in the hole," he says with a wink and boyish grin. "Now that could be lots of fun," he adds, putting his hands behind his back in satisfaction of his clever play on words, anxiously awaiting her retort.

"_Okay, so this is how he wants to play,"_ Lois thinks to herself, gaining renewed strength in knowing that he was trying to win a game she invented. Walking alluringly towards him, she sticks out her chest, batting her eyes, and twisting a lock of hair around her finger. These are her weapons. Smallville is going down.

"Fun? You want fun?" Lois asks, puckering her lips, draping one of her arms around Clark's neck. She looks deep into his eyes, allowing her lips to reside only a breath away from his. "Yeah, let's have some fun," she whispers seductively, while secretly clenching her other hand into a fist until her knuckles crack. With a devilish grin, she thrusts her hand into his crotch, tightly gripping the package that belongs to her, and the one that belongs to him. "I want it now!" she demands, her eyes threatening to squeeze harder if he does not oblige.

Unfortunately for Lois, Clark cannot be hurt. Confused on how exactly to proceed, she continues to hold tightly to that which normally brings men to their knees. Yet, for some reason Clark is still standing. The look in his eyes made her fear that if she continued to hold on, his large frame standing erect would not be the least of her worries.

The feeling of Lois' hand on him ignites a fire beneath his skin. Her handling of him excites him, quickly raising the temperature of his body. He feels the flames rising within him, the smoldering sensation building, burning his eyes. He can no longer hold back. There is an explosion within him, and the release is a stream of fire which begins to engulf the booth selling corn across from them.

"What the...," Lois says, releasing her grip, staring wide eyed at burning corn booth, which now is raining popcorn down upon the market.

"Let's get out of here," Clark says, grabbing Lois' arm, dragging her away from the scene.

x x x x x x x

The flames and smoke quickly rise into the air. The pine booth is rapidly being swallowed by the relentless fire. Patrons and vendors run from the chaos, frightened and shocked, never really having gotten over the scare of the meteor shower from years past. Flames from the sky can be translated into only one thing for the folks in Smallville; Run! Jonathan and Martha, however, see the glow of orange just up the row from their own booth, and quickly run towards it.

Chloe stands with her mouth wide open. She's seen things set ablaze unexpectedly before. She knows who has the power to start fires with a simple glance. Working the details out in her head, she comes to the conclusion that since the lovely and perfect Lana Lang is no where to be found, this time Clark's premature combustion had to be over Lois. "Damn that tank top," Chloe says under her breath, tightly clenching her fist and jaw, her determined eyes fixed and ready.

"Okay Cuz, this is war."


	7. Red Hot Peaches Chapter 7

As Chloe purposefully pushes her way through the market's chaotic crowd, she summons more resolve by the moment. She always envisioned this throw down taking place against Lana; a battle she felt more than comfortable in handling. She felt confident in assuming that anyone who stocks their closet full of Barbie pink certainly couldn't have much power behind their punch, and so she didn't lose much sleep worrying about taking Lana down. The fact that it was her own cousin who crossed the line of Clarkdom, much less one who had a great deal of military training behind her, were both things that were giving Chloe pause. Yet, regardless of their blood relation, that ponytail clad, too-tight tank top wearing minx knew better than to flirt with the flannel wearing farm boy, and she did it anyway. In typical Lois fashion, she bullied her way into a place she didn't belong, and for that she was going down. She had to go down. Lois may be packing some militaristic moves, but Chloe has brains, and nothing lit Chloe's pilot light like someone messing with her man.

The elder Kents feverishly battle the fire, as Chloe quickly sneaks by them. Clark and Lois were making their way towards the market exit, and if she was going to catch them, she was going to have to move fast. Yet, when they finally come in to view she can't help but see that Clark is holding Lois' hand. She wants to scream, throw things, run over to Lois and kick her ass; but that wouldn't help her win Clark's affection. If she's going to win this battle, she needs to get Clark to combust over her. She has to fight fire with fire.

Not wanting to veer too far off the warpath, she stops at the closest booth to her, which just so happens to be perfect for her cause. "I'll take one of these," Chloe says snatching up her own form of ammunition off the table, balling it up and tossing it under her arm before anyone can see. She quickly throws down a five dollar bill, then charges full steam ahead towards her destination.

Breathless, Chloe catches up with Clark and Lois, ready for the battle royale. However, in her haste she did not see Lois frantically trying to break free from Clark's massive grip. He may have wanted to engage in a little fun, but Lois did not. However, from Chloe's perspective, it very much appears the opposite.

"Hey Clark!" Chloe shouts from behind them, instantly striking her best sexy pose. She primps, placing her hand on her hip and shifting her weight to the opposite side. It's actually not that bad of a job. It's just too bad that Clark and Lois didn't hear her, and aren't looking her way.

"Clark!" Chloe screams again, a shrill shriek that gets everyone's attention. She rubs her throat, having just strained it, but recovers in time to find her sexy pose again.

Clark and Lois turn together, both staring at Chloe. Instantly they see something different in her face. If they didn't know better, they could easily jump to the conclusion that somewhere among the peaches and corn stalks, Chloe had come across some moonshine.

Chloe closes the short distance between she and Clark with a feline slink so out of character for her cousin, that it injects Lois with a temporary case of laryngitis. Clark, knowing Chloe all too well, senses a trick, and is not impressed. Not even in his Red-K induced state.

"Chloe, wouldn't you really rather--" Chloe's fingertip brushes his lips to shut him up.

"It really is hot out here, isn't it Clark?" Chloe asks, wrapping her arms up around his neck, trying her best to purr in a seductive tone, but failing miserably. "Are you hot, Clark?" she asks, running her finger across his lips again. Unfortunately her determined enthusiasm doesn't caress his skin softly. Instead, she rakes the finger across his cheek, pulling his cheeks forward and slapping them back with a spit filled splat.

Her eye twitches as she realizes that she's overplaying her role, but she finds some dignity buried deep, deep inside and manages to continue.

Lois stands wide eyed, seriously wondering what sort of crazy product they spray the produce with around this place because apparently Clark and Chloe had inhaled a little too much.

"Chloe, what in the heck is the matter with you?" Lois asks, pulling Chloe's hand away from Clark's lips.

Chloe can't help but take Lois' protective motion as proof of her affection for Clark, thus fueling her more. She positions herself strategically under Clark's gaze, sucking on her finger, and coos, "Du yeww thenk ihm haawwt, Cwark?" her mouth full of finger.

"What?" Clark and Lois ask in unison, eyebrows arched in complete bewilderment, not understanding a single word she's saying.

"Du yeww thenk ihm haawwt, Cwark?" Chloe tries again, adding more purr this time.

"What is that? Klingon?" Lois queries.

"Ughh," Chloe sighs annoyingly, pulling her finger out of her mouth to better enunciate. "Do you think I'm hot, Clark? Gee, open your ears."

"Oh, I totally didn't get that the first time," Clark finally realizes.

Not getting the proper response, she feels it's time to up the ante. Chloe reaches over propositioning Clark by taking one of his fingers into her mouth. Such an act should be quite enticing, but in her naiveté her sucking comes off more like she's cleaning one of her own fingers slathered in sauce after eating a stack of barbecue ribs.

As if that site wasn't bizarre enough, she somehow finds a way to top her own follies of flirtation failure. With her combination of desperation and inexperience she finds herself shoving Clark's finger farther in her mouth, hoping by some miracle this act will turn him on, but all it really serves to do it set off her gag reflex leaving her wrenching like a bulimic after Thanksgiving dinner.

Lois is two inches away from complete and utter humiliation. The craziest part is Chloe, the one who should have already died of shame, doesn't seem to care, or even notice the fool she is making of herself. Lois can't understand what on Earth had possessed her cousin to start acting like such a freak, but it's going to end right now. "You know I didn't really want to see you taking up smoking considering you've already embraced high blood pressure inducing hobbies, but if you insist on sticking random items in your mouth, why don't you give cigarettes a go?" Lois says, pressing her hand down on Chloe's shoulder in a condescending mothering manner.

Clark doesn't know what to say. What can he say? Despite Chloe's apparent attempts to win him, it's obvious she would've had better luck before she started trying. Even though Chloe is ready to disown her cousin forever, Lois couldn't care less that she has Clark on a leash. Thanks to the red kryptonite every single snide comment Lois spews, Clark is excited further, yet she remains completely oblivious to that fact. The sad reality is that Chloe's losing a battle to someone who isn't even aware there's a fight.

Clark passes Lois a quick glance, motioning with his eyes he wants to leave the freak show. Chloe sees it, and realizes it's time for the big guns, and she just happens to have two big ones with Clark's name on them. Ready to play, she knocks Lois' hand off of her with a firm shrug of her shoulder. "Do you mind?" Chloe asks aggravated to her cousin's proximity to her. Oddly, Chloe's tone is strong enough to make Lois take a step back.

"You like big juicy peaches, don't you, Clark?" Chloe asks, glancing over at Lois' overly packed top, then defiantly starting to take her own off. Sadly for her even this simple task can not go easily. Chloe's now trapped in her own T-shirt, bound and spinning around like a patient at Belle Reve strapped in a straight jacket.

Even though Clark is very much like other guys his age, especially now in his uninhibited condition, he simply cannot get past the humor surrounding Chloe's would be seduction scene to enjoy her abundant cups that runneth over.

After struggling with her own shirt for what seemed like an eternity, Chloe frees herself from the binding cotton knit screeching "Owie", time and time again as her hair is ripped out by the roots in her haste. This ridiculous entanglement has left her short, cropped hair shooting straight up in what can only be described as a rooster-do. Despite the fact that she is now down to her bra, her whole strip tease proved anything but tempting. Maybe if she too was high on a drug, or perhaps had a parasite embedded in her head, she might actually be able to pull off this seduction. Sadly though, Chloe, without the aid of drugs and meteor rock leeches, fumbles like Charlie Brown kicking a football.

If you could say nothing else about Chloe Sullivan, you would have to concede that she is tenacious. Today her tenacity is the only thing keeping her from throwing in the towel and seeking solitude beneath her tear stained pillow. Finding renewed strength in her sheer desperation, and within the chills she gets from Clark's gorgeous blue-green eyes, she pulls out her balled up ammunition.

"Do you know what I like to do when it's hot and steamy like this?" Chloe asks, strumming her finger down her chest, actually capturing sultry with amazing sensuality. It seems that Clark has finally noticed Chloe's carnal fruits of pleasure she was kind enough to display before him. You can almost see him beginning to salivate. Later, Chloe would definitely be kicking her own butt over this next move, but she had mapped out her plan of attack in her mind. She did not take into account he might be hooked before her final step, and so she continues on. "I like to put on a tank top. A nice Itight/I one," Chloe adds, throwing Lois a snide glance, before returning her eyes to Clark's.

"Tight?" Clark confirms, running his eyes up and down her, hovering around her mid quadrant. "Tight is good."

Chloe smiles, not really getting his risqué inference, delighting under the delusion that he is finally caught in her trap.

"Tight can be very good," she assures him, putting on the balled up surprise she's been hiding; the impulse purchase tank top, also known as the spark to start Clark's fire. Yes, if Chloe was thinking clearly she would realize that covering up her exposed succulent bust with a tacky five dollar tank top was a bad choice, but it's evident Chloe's not thinking clearly. She is driven by the irrational idea that a tank top is the magic button to Clark's libido. Unfortunately she doesn't realize that it's her constant insecurity, and current ridiculousness that turns his switch off.

Lois rolls her head back and around, finally getting what Chloe is up to, and positions herself between Chloe and Clark.

"Okay, that's enough of that. It's no mystery what you're trying to do here, Cuz," Lois intones, rolling her eyes.

"What's the matter, Lois, can't stand a little competition?" Chloe snaps back.

"Competition?" Lois's confidence in herself gets in the way. The minute she says it she realizes how Chloe will take it, no matter how harmless she meant it.

"You don't think you and I can compete? Is that it? Or are you just worried that I figured out your little secret weapon," Chloe says defiantly, snapping the straps of her tank top.

"Don't you mean weapons? Plural?" Clark interjects, fueling the impending cat fight the best he can.

"Stay out of it, Pillsbury," Lois glares at Clark, but immediately returning her attention back to Chloe. "There's nothing secret about it."

"They stick out so far I guess it would be hard to keep them a secret. Which reminds me of something I was meaning to bring up. I don't remember your mom, or mine for that matter being quite so busty," Chloe smugly cocks an eyebrow with that zinger.

"I seriously hope you plan on regretting that later," Lois warns, an adversarial tone in her voice.

"The only thing I planned to do, is knock you down a bra size or two."

"At least I have the sizes to spare."

Clark folds his arms up to his chest, ready for the show.


	8. Red Hot Peaches Chapter 8

"Hey green eyes!" a profoundly round farmer calls out, "You gonna take your top off now, too?"

"I"d pay to see that!" a security officer answers.

"You don't need to pay, blondie's giving it away for free!" the round one offers.

"I'd pay for the tall one to go all the way," the security officer says through a mouth full of donut.

"You wouldn't pay for blondie?" asks round boy.

"I got a quarter in my pocket, I think," the security guard laughs, digging in his pocket for change.

"I got two dollars right here that says blondie's gonna kick the tar our of double-d there," a leathery old man, who should be old enough to know better, waves two bills in the air.

"What is that, your life savings?" the security officer jabs, "But, you're crazy if you think double-d ain't got some piss and vinegar in her swing." He matches the bet with two dollars of his own.

Chloe's heard every word of it, but is far too enraged at her cousin to care. Lois, on the other hand, likes to play to the crowd.

"Make it three and I'll sprawl her out in the mud with one punch," Lois says turning to the

men.

"You're on!" the three exclaim in unison.

Lois turns back around to face her opponent. "Can you believe these guys think you're serious?" But, instead of finding a sympathetic feminist ear, she finds Chloe with a handful of dirt swinging it Lois's way.

The ball of dirt smacks Lois full force in the mouth. She spits instinctively, a little bewildered that Chloe took it that far.

"Chloe-?" Lois begins, but Chloe finishes the thought with a right cross to Lois's face.

Lois spins on her heels, falling back face first into the waiting arms of one Clark Kent. The sight of Lois in the enveloping arms of her one true love does nothing but adds kerosene to Chloe's campfire.

Lois's eyes sparkle, as her lips twist into an evil grin. Peering up at Clark, she asks, "Could you give me a little push?" Clark does, pushing her out. She uses the inertia to spin around and sweep her foot under Chloe's legs. Chloe flips back, landing hard. Lois plants her hand in the dirt, swings her foot around again and pounces on Chloe's fallen form, pinning Chloe's arms with her folded knees and bracing Chloe's face with her thighs.

"Boy howdy," round boy grins, "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!"

Lois scoops up a fist of dirt and rubs in Chloe's mouth. "I'm a big sister, don't even think about taking me down."

Lois springs to her feet and gleefully snatches the dollar bills from the leering masses hands, tucking them down between her cleavage with a satisfied grin.

"They doing all this over you stretch?" the security officer asks, jabbing Clark in the ribs.

Clark can't do anything but stand with his mouth wide open, far too preoccupied with the show, enjoying the sensations such a site provides him.

"Hey Boy! You catching flies over there?"

"Somebody better get him a bib!" Another hick exclaims, slapping his knee as he lets out a cackle, one that's uncomfortably raspy thanks to too many cigarettes.

Lois prances around doing a victory lap. Chloe picks herself up weakly. The stress of the day catches up with her, and she bursts into tears.

Lois stops her victorious prance at the sound of Chloe's sobs.

"It's not fair," Chloe snorts through open sobbing. "I'm never the winner, I'm always second place."

Lois's heart melts. She didn't know the reason behind Chloe's rant, but so much is revealed to her with that one, teary sentiment.

"Chloe," Lois turns on her best mothering voice. "Sweetie, don't." Lois leans down to comfort her fallen cousin.

Chloe's hand swings around and finds Lois off-balance. Lois falls back, and Chloe springs to life pinning Lois in the same manner she was just pinned herself.

"I never had a sister, but I'm a quick learner," Chloe sneers.

Being the more powerful of the two, Lois launches Chloe off of her and gets a good hold of her hair. The two twist and wrestle in the dirt, reducing their fight to what would be mud wresting if the men were fortunate enough to have it rain.

A powerful hand clamps around Chloe's wrist and pulls her up. A second hand wraps around Lois's wrist and yanks her up as well.

"That's enough of that!" a booming voice calls down on them. The two warring girls look up into the stern face of Jonathan Kent.

The crowd, recognizing a father figure, simmers down to the point where the only sound is a slight "whoosh" from behind them.

"I don't know what started this, but it's finished now!" Jonathan commands. "Is that understood?"

Lois blows her own hair out of her filthy face. "What's up Mr. Kent? You hear there were two girls rolling in the dirt and you come running?"

Jonathan stammers with his answer, "No. Not at all."

Chloe licks the bit of blood from her lip, quickly noticing that Clark is no where to be found.

"Great! Now look what you did!" Chloe jeers at Lois, knowing that Clark had the ability to disappear quicker than anyone else on earth, and with his new found attitude there's no telling what he might do next.

"Oh relax. A little bit of blood isn't going to kill you," Lois says, pulling the elastic off of her ponytail, sliding it onto her wrist.

Their little spat had left both girls looking quite disheveled. Lois, well aware that she's on display quickly tries to take the upper hand of the situation, and straighten up her appearance. She bends her head forward, bouncing her long locks in front of her, combing through them with her fingers. Then, in one quick motion, she flings her head back, allowing her long, full hair to fall along her shoulders and down her back.

The grungy men gasp in unison, feeling as though they just saw a Pantene commercial acted out in front of them.

Lois arches her eyebrow, realizing she's got the entire hillbilly community dangling on a string. She passes Chloe a side glance, hoping her cousin will finally see who is truly the winner of this battle of feminine wiles.

Jonathan Kent is not a fool. When he sees the men devouring Lois with their eyes, he knows he has to put a stop to it before things get truly out of hand. Lois may not be his daughter, but she is a young woman living under his roof, and he would not stand for anyone treating her inappropriately, regardless that it seems she's playing right into it.

"Y'all have 'til I count to ten to get back to your business or I'm going to show y'all what my business is," Jonathan says, staring the crowd down, as he steps between the rowdy bunch of men, and the girl who's turning his hair gray by the moment.

Jonathan may not be the largest man in the crowd, but no one there can question that he's able to see through his threat. His eyes remain fixed as the gangly bunch of men as they turn their backs to him, going back to their booths.

"Thanks Mr. Kent," she says giving him a pat on the back. "But you know, I could've handled them just fine."

"We've got to find Clark!" Chloe yells at far too shrill of a decibel.

"_We_ don't need to do anything," Lois says, a little worried about why Chloe was so interested in locating Clark. After all, it was Lois's present for Chloe that Clark was hiding behind his zippered denim.

"No, there's something-" Chloe doesn't finish too aware of Jonathan's presence.

"There's something-what?" Jonathan asks.

Chloe bites her lip to keep from letting out a nervous smile, but she forgets the cut on it. "Ow! That hurt!" she exclaims in pain as she hops around to shake it off.

Jonathan grabs Chloe's shoulders, curious what it was she was about to say. "What's going on with Clark?"

"Oh, nothing's up with Clark that's not up with every other guy his age," Lois says, hoping to reassure him, not wanting to blow this whole thing out of proportion.

"Relax, I'll go find him."


	9. Chapter 9

Lois Lane pushes through the densest crowd of people she's seen yet at the Farmer's Market, amazed this many people would visit this place voluntarily. Looking around, she's sure that she's in hell, and that this is the population of the underworld speaking a strange language punctuated with hellish phrases such as "yes, ma'am" and "beg your pardon." If there was one thing she's certain of, it's that she could go the rest of her life without begging anyone's pardon.

Thankfully for her, Farmboy is tall enough to poke over the heads of the throng of pardon beggars, otherwise she would have lost him by now. What she can't quite figure out is why there are so many people at this particular end of the market? What is so special about this end? Do these imbreds just naturally gravitate south?

The bushy black hair she's got her eyes on stops bobbing as Clark reaches the end of the crowd. Curious, and on a mission, Lois breaks through the last few people to see what has caused the mass migration.

"Isn't it hot?" Clark beams, somehow knowing Lois is right behind him.

"Hot? Oh yeah Road Warrior, that's one hot hawg," Lois says sarcastically, rolling her eyes at Clark's new found passion for metal," Of course, her mind has already shown her a picture of Clark's body hugging the leather seat.

Clark too, can see himself riding away on the steel horse before him. "It's a Harley," he purrs, his eyes fixed on his prize.

Indeed, it is a Harley. A beautiful black Harley Davidson motorcycle up on a stage next to a strange little man Lois is convinced is having some sort of seizure. He's talking really fast and every now and then she can hear a number spouted off through his incomprehensible speech.

"_Why did they give this freak a microphone?"_ Lois asks herself, still reeling by the ridiculousness of this one horse town.

Of course, Lois is not a dummy, she knows the crazy man is an auctioneer, but he lacks certain amount of class that the one she first saw at Christie's possessed. Perhaps it's his accent. Perhaps it's the worn cowboy hat atop his sun dried raisin head. Or perhaps it's the fact that after every concrete bid he would spit

"Well, now that you've found something else to occupy your pubescent desires for the afternoon, can I have the necklace back?" Lois asks bored.

"What fun would that be?" Clark asks before jumping an unearthly jump up to the stage. Lois never knew that Clark was a motorhead, but judging by the length of his leap, he must really be into motorcycles.

"Whoa boy, you have to bid on it. This is a charity auction," the auctioneer cautions Clark, sticking out his pudgy arm with a cigar nestled between his stubby fingers.

"Just let me sit on it," Clark begins, moving past the porker's arm. "Come on, someone as pretty as me sitting on this bike will only drive the bid higher," Clark says with a smile, throwing his leg over the bike.

As if on cue, a wrinkled woman down front enthusiastically cheers out a new bid. The auctioneer considers it for a moment, spits, and then intones, "Okay, then." Without missing a beat he jumps right back into the auction frenzy, which has been kicked up a notch or two.

Lois climbs up onto the stage and the auction gets louder still, so much so that the auctioneer can't keep up with the overlapping bids.

"Is Peaches up there an optional addition or does she come standard?" a distant voice calls out over the crowd. Lois's temper sears as she turns around to see who said that. Looking over another crowd in Smallville with cash up in the air, she can only imagine that these farmers get their paychecks in one dollar bills.

"Come on Peaches, let's go for a ride," Clark says, snatching Lois off her feet and planting her down on the bike right in front of him. Getting cozy he wraps his arms around her to get a grip on the handlebars.

"Boy howdy!" the auctioneer exclaims, as the bids continue to soar.

x X x X x X

Jonathan brushes off Chloe as paternally as he can, completely out of his element in the realm of teenage girls. "Chloe, what's wrong with you, today?" he asks, hoping the answer is something he can handle.

"Me? What about Clark? He's the one acting like an alien," Chloe says desperately.

Jonathan's eyes widen. Surely she didn't just say what he thinks she said.

"I mean he's not acting anything like himself today," she adds, honestly a little freaked out.

Jonathan stiffens, that one clue sparking his memory. "How is he not acting himself?"

"I've seen him get this hot and bothered over Lana before, which I'm starting to learn to accept, but for him to go full bore horndog on Lois is just—" she's cut off by Jonathan.

"How much of a," he has to find verbal strength to finish the sentence, "of a _horndog_?" Jonathan asks, about to shiver at the thought of having this conversation.

Chloe's face pulls up on one side and her eyes go wide. "Wow, Mr. Kent, that was pretty weird to hear you say—" he cuts her off again.

"Chloe, answer me," Jonathan barks like a Dad.

"Clark's acting like he's had about six too many double shot tall lattes."

"In plain English, please, Chloe," Jonathan feeling his age as he tries to communicate with a teenager.

"It's like he's on drugs, Mr. Kent," Chloe finally admits.

Jonathan straightens up realizing what's wrong. "I have to find my son."

He takes off in the direction Lois and Clark just went. Chloe, never to let a good story get away, follows in hot pursuit.

x X x X x

Lois pushes against Clark's immovable arms which have her trapped in a prison of mortification. The auction proceeds at an alarming rate, fueled by the libido of Smallville's community.

Clark looks around the motorcycle quizzically, trying to figure it out.

"How do you turn it on?" Clark asks, happy that he's got two precious objects in his possession.

"Hold on, boy," the auctioneer responds, "I think your motor's revvin' just fine by itself."

"Let go of me Clark!" Lois demands, beating on his arms, having had her fill of everything macho or hick for the day. All she can do is imagine a time when she was far away from farms, farmers, farmer's markets, and most especially farmboys. She can practically feel the city calling her.

Feeling like an animal caught in a cage, she has no choice but to act like one. Driven by her fury, she leans down ready to bite hard into his arm.

"Twenty-thousand!" the auctioneer squeals, the pitch of the microphone piercing her ears, taking her attention off the impenetrable flesh right before her.

The crowd is reaching fever pitch, something Lois and Clark specialize in today. The bidding has reached a record $20,000, well more than what the bike is worth. And, since the "charity" the bike was being auctioned for was never fully explained in any of the flyers, the auctioneer was eager to milk the audience a bit further.

"You two hot young kids are gold. Hey boy, I'll give you five bucks if you plant a kiss on that gal right now!" the auctioneer offers, digging his fat hand into his jeans.

"Like Hell you—" Lois begins to protest, but then a call comes from the crowd.

"I'd pay ten to see that!"

"I wouldn't do it for less than twenty," Clark says with a wink.

Immediately, a twenty dollar bill folded into a paper airplane sails into Clark's forehead. Lois's eyes fly wide with panic.

"Bidder, bidder, we have a winner!" the auctioneer screams, slyly leaning down to pick up the twenty and then shove it into his pocket.

"Don't you even dream of it doughboy!" Lois warns, trying to wriggle free of Clark's grip.

Clark, having seen the auctioneer pick up his money, takes the opportunity of the man being distracted to find the ignition to the bike. Clark doesn't want the money, he's got his heart set on taking the bike.

With the chanting of the crowd growing louder, Clark slides his fingers off of the handlebars and slips them around Lois's waist. His fingers glide over her tank top, up her neck and over her cheek. He cranes her face around to his, and dangles his lips breathlessly close to Lois's.

Lois's mind tells her body to break free, to use one of those spin moves her Dad taught her for just such an occasion. But, her body doesn't move. Instead she finds herself relishing Clark's warm gentle breath as it whisps past her lips and onto her tongue.

Their lips barely meet, the skin dancing and gliding together as if in a choreographed ballet. She can't help herself from leaning into it, not objecting at all as his large hands cradle her stretched neck. Her hands drop to their side, no longer pushing on the bike's tank to push herself off of the bike. Her feet limply drop off of the exhaust and dangle helplessly over the stage floor.

Then, with alarming speed Clark thrusts his tongue into her mouth, quickly lassoing her own.

She pulls away, disgusted, spitting and rubbing her retching mouth.

Clark plays the crowd, throwing his arm up in the air triumphantly and then wiggles his tongue around in the air. The crowd loves this.

"Clark!" Jonathan bellows over the crowd, trying to use whatever control his parental voice has over his intoxicated son.

"Clark!" Chloe screams tapping the last reserve of horror she didn't use beating herself up over her actions earlier.

"Uh oh," Clark sighs, "we've got to cut this short." He says, latching an arm around Lois, fully intending to not let her out of his trap. With his other, he cranks the bike's engine sparking it to life.

Unfortunately for Clark, the leg of his jeans has caught in the bike's chain. When the motor spins to life, and with him too inexperienced to leave the brake on, the chain takes hold and rips his jeans completely off. The bike also lurches forward spillng Lois unceremoniously to the floor.

The prize in his pants, namely the nasty little necklace that started it all, flies out across the crowd, connecting with the person who it was originally intended for.

Chloe takes the blow square in the forehead. She blinks for a second, and then falls back stiffly.

Jonathan sees the necklace laying on the ground, sees the red stone and instantly recognizes it. He lays the heel of his boot on it, shattering the little rock with his weight.

Clark, coming to his senses finds himself on a motorcycle, in his underwear. A thousand questions float through his brain. Why is he here? Why is Lois on the ground in front of him wiping her mouth? And why oh why did he choose to wear the joke present that his Mom had gotten him for Valentine's Day: white boxers with pink hearts?


	10. Chapter 10

The last forty-five minutes of Clark's life suddenly comes screaming back to him. A barrage of images from Chloe and Lois wrestling in the dirt to the most current image, little pink hearts, swarm into his brain pan.

Beyond the hoopin' and hollerin' crowd Clark can barely make out Jonathan picking Chloe off of the ground. His mind's still a little fuzzy, but he can't quite remember how Chloe got thrown to the ground.

Lois, on the other hand, he remembers exactly how she got to the ground. He also knows, in no uncertain terms, how she feels about it. His memory doesn't have to work at all, he can see it in her pulsating red eyes. That rage swirling in her eyes almost hypnotizes Clark, freezing him in his spot, unable to move as Lois picks herself off of the ground and plants her two feet in a definite fighting stance.

Her arm crooks back slowly with no intention of a playful punch to Clark's arm. This punch will most certainly be aimed at his head.

"Hold on there, Peaches," the auctioneer cradles her drawn back fist and tries a soothing tone, "we don't need no lover's spat up here on the stage."

"Lover's spat!" Lois asks incredulously.

"Yeah, most these folks here get that at home for free, it ain't gonna help sell this here bike," he whispers desperately, worried he may lose his huge sale. "Why don't ya'll get back to lockin' lips, the crowd sure ate that up!"

"Kiss him?" Lois asks unbelieving. But, the crowd didn't hear the anger in her voice, but rather thought she was still playing to the crowd.

"Kiss him again!" several voices scream.

"You want me to kiss him, again?" Lois asks, her fury growing with each passing moment.

"Go on! Kiss the boy!" more catcalls come from the audience.

Clark doesn't know how to react, all he knows is that he wants off of that stage, and wants his pants back. He looks out over the crowd for his father to come save him, but Jonathan is too busy attending to Chloe, who has a perfectly round welt on her forehead. Clark lifts his leg up, trying to unsaddle the bike, but Lois kicks his foot down keeping him in place.

"You want me to? Really? Is this what you want?" she wraps her fingers around the scruff of his black T-shirt and pulls him in close for an angry kiss.

The crowd screams in approval.

Her lips hang precipitously close to Clark's as she breathes angrily, "Where the hell is that bracelet, Doughboy?"

Clark blinks his eyes to keep his head from swimming, "I don't know, it was down my pants..." he trails off.

"You don't have your pants anymore," Lois notices.

"Do you really think I'd keep it from you anymore?" Clark asks, not prepared for how far Lois is willing to go.

"You want to take this game to its end, fine, let's play," Lois twists her wrist holding Clark's shirt tighter to keep him from wriggling loose, and dives her free hand into Clark pink hearts boxers.

The crowd goes wild, this show is better than the tractor pull.

"Whoa!" the auctioneer cautions, "let's keep this as family friendly as possible, young folks!"

Chloe rubs the sore welt on her forehead and catches a brief glimpse of Lois on stage with her hand down Clark's shorts. "How hard did I get hit?" she asks.

"Are you feeling alright, Chloe?" Jonathan holds his arms behind her in case she falls again.

"No, I don't think I am," Chloe says, blinking bewildered eyes at the stage, startled out of her whine by a shrill voice silencing the entire crowd.

"Claaaarrrrkk!" Martha screams in her patented maternal tone.

Lois turns meekly towards Martha, slipping her hand out of Clark's shorts. "Hi, Mrs. Kent."

"Mom!" Clark shrinks onto the bike trying to hide his near-nakedness.

"Party's over," the auctioneer notices. "Sold! For twenty thousand to the young lady down front!" he screams to a completely quiet crowd. The young lady doesn't remember bidding for the bike, only for Clark.

"Does anyone else hear bells ringing?" Chloe asks, Martha's ear piercing scream adding to her pounding migraine.

Martha's nowhere near Chloe to apologize, she's bounded up on stage and tries her best to block Clark with her body.

"What are you doing, Lois?" Martha asks unbelieving. The crowd dissipates, not interested in the scene anymore.

"Getting back what's mine, Mrs. Kent," Lois spurts off only tasting her words after she says them.

"Yours!" Martha almost faints.

"He took the bracelet I was going to give Chloe as a gift," Lois tries to recover.

"You mean this one?" Jonathan holds up the chain with no stone. "I'm sorry, Lois, I think I accidentally cracked the stone."

"You bought me a bracelet at a flea market?" Chloe asks, wondering just how much worse this day can get.

"It's vintage," Lois insists, hoping to not so cheap. "And it was supposed to be a surprise," she adds, glaring over at Clark.

"The little red stone," Jonathan practically winks to Martha.

Martha immediately understands what Jonathan is hinting at, but can't quite understand, "What does that have to do with Lois?"

"Clark just pushed the wrong buttons. You know how boys are," Jonathan smiles a familiar grin he uses far too often to cover up the oddities that surround his family.

"That's it? 'You know how boys are' and that's it?" Lois asks, her rage having barely subsided. "And let this be known, there are no buttons anywhere on me for Clark to push. Got it?"

Jonathan nods, a little scared of the raging young girl.

"For being the supposed super parents, shouldn't you be punishing him?" Lois asks.

"I'd prefer clothing him at this point," Martha answers.

"He should be flogged, or whatever it is you farm parents do to their kids!" Lois yells. "I'm out five bucks for that bracelet!"

"Five bucks?" Chloe asks, offended at her value to her cousin.

"Money has been slim!" Lois barks.

Martha cradles Clark and begins moving him off of the stage.

"Or maybe you should send him to his room without supper, not that it looks like you've ever deprived him of food judging by the size of him!" Lois again doesn't taste her words.

"The size of him!" Chloe practically gasps.

Martha pushes Clark out of earshot, shooting a shocked face over her shoulder at Lois. Jonathan can't even turn to face her.

"I didn't mean," Lois tries to cover up, "Clark junior, but I've had my arms around smaller boys." Lois suddenly realizes there's still a bit of an audience. "I want my five bucks back!"


	11. Chapter 11

Martha drops the freshly dismembered chicken into the fryer. Grabbing her tongs, she gently rolls the chicken in the boiling oil.

Lois turns the heat down under the boiling pot of potatoes.

"Okay, what do I do now?" Lois asks, genuinely perplexed at how to mash potatoes.

Martha maneuvers Lois away from her food, "Why don't you set the table for me, honey?"

Lois happily complies.

"Chloe, honey, do you mind draining the water off that pot?" Martha asks, her hands a little full with the extra couple mouths to feed.

"What?" Chloe asks, the ringing in her ears and pounding in her head still altering her reaction time.

"Never mind," Martha says, managing to do the ten tasks with her two hands.

"Lois is the more domestic one in the family," Chloe says, finally catching up with the conversation.

"Well, why don't you put the glasses on the table then, okay?" Martha says, opening up the cupboard for Chloe.

Clark sulks up at the top of the stairs only happy to be fully clothed again, his mother's call still ringing in his ear.

"Clark! Johnathan! Dinner!" Martha calls again.

Slowly creeping down the stairs, Clark peers around the corner into the kitchen and sees both Lois and Chloe sitting at the table. Chloe snacks on a bowl of peanuts, Lois drums her fingers angrily on the table. He shrinks two steps back up the stairs.

"Claaarrk! Dinner! Johnathan!" Martha calls yet again, slightly annoyed.

"Come on, Clark. Supper's on," Johnathan appears at the head of the stairs behind Clark.

"I'm not..." Clark begins.

Johnathan pushes Clark down the stairs, somewhat to get the boy to dinner, but mostly to get him out of the way so Jonathan can have his own dinner.

"Let's move it!" Johnathan barrels down the stairs and pushes Clark into the kitchen.

"Fried Chicken!" Johnathan kisses his wife on the cheek, appreciating her cooking. He maneuvers around the crowded table bumping Chloe's arm, knoking the peanut she was twiddling in her fingers to the ground. Jonathan's boot smashes down on the peanut.

"Oops, sorry Chloe. I stepped on your peanut," Jonathan says, patting her on her shoulder.

Putting his fingers in his mouth, he lets out a whistle, summoning Shelby to his side.

"Shelby, clean this peanut off the ground, will ya girl?" he says, rubbing the scruff of her neck.

Like a dutiful servant, Shelby licks the floor clean, relishing the peanutty goodness shell and all.

Clark allows his eyes to dawdle a bit as he awkwardly looks over to Lois and Chloe sitting at the table. Whatever conversation they were having has abruptly stopped. He tries to break the ice by smiling. Lois glares back harshly, so much so that Clark winces in fear.

Chloe rubs her forehead. When she pulls her hand away, Clark gets a good look at the purple welt that's grown there. The sight of it makes him jump back further.

"What? Is it bad?" Chloe asks.

"No, honey. It's barely noticeable," Martha reassures.

"I want to look at it. Let me see your compact," Chloe asks, reaching out to Lois.

"My purse is upstairs," Lois lies, kicking her purse from her feet to under the table.

Chloe bites her bottom lip, determined to get a look at it.

"Clark, sit down so we can eat," Martha demands.

"Yeah, Clark," Lois kicks out the chair next to her, "Have a seat."

Picking up a spoon, Chloe tries to see her reflection in the back of it. Lois flicks it out of her hand.

"Oops, sorry about that," Lois apologizes with very little sincerity.

Clark tentaively pulls out the chair between Chloe and Lois. Lois smiles wider than the cat who ate the canary.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt dinner," Lex says from behind the screen door.

"Lex!" Clark almost screams like a little girl, never happier to see his friend. "What are you," Clark begins but quickly changes his thought mid-sentence, "Stay for dinner!"

Clark takes one step to the door, swings it open and pulls Lex inside.

"I don't want to impose on you mother, Clark," Lex politely smiles.

"No, there's plenty, isn't there, Mom?" Clark asks, not caring that he is imposing on his mother.

"Sure, Lex," Martha offers, frantically looking around her kitchen for another dish to pad her dinner for another guest.

"Sit here, Lex," Clark posiitions Lex behind the chair Lois has planned for Clark.

"Thanks, Clark," Lex awkwardly says, unsure of why his friend is pulling him around the room like a ragdoll.

Martha finds her extra side dish. She pulls a bowl from the cupboard and fills it with a bundle of her fresh peaches. She spins around, hoping to cover the fact that his is a last minute add on to her meal, and places the bowl in the center of the table.

Lex begins to take his seat, noticing the young ladies to either side of him.

"Chloe," Lex acknowledges, then turns to Lois, but is momentarily distracted by Martha's bowl of peaches, "Oh, peaches," he remarks.

Lois kicks the chair out from under him just as he is sitting down, assuming he was addressing her.

Lex's butt is introduced to the Kent's kitchen floor rather abruptly.

"Lois!" Clark exclaims.

"Oops!" she replies smugly, but after noticing the bowl of peaches on the table, she offers a far more knowing, "oh, oops," she cringes.

Lex sits on the floor, unsure, or unwilling, to attempt to sit in the chair again.

While on the ground, Chloe peers at the top of his smooth head to try and see her forehead in the reflection.

"Let me help you," Clark offers while yanking Lex off of the floor and planting him squarely into his chair.

Lex turns to Chloe who is awkwardly staring at his head. Lois peers around the young billionaire, trying to clue her cousin in to the fact she's being terribly rude.

"Is there something I can do for you, Chloe?" Lex just has to ask.

As if breaking out of a trance, Chloe realizes what she's doing, flashing a toothy grin. On the other side of Lex, Lois rolls her eyes.

Jonathan sits down at the head of the table, "Let's eat, shall we?" He spoons out a large helping of mashed potatoes, dabbing them down to his plate. He goes for a second spoonful, but sees Martha eyeing him. Getting the hint he passes them along.

Lex takes a sliced peach and then passes the bowl to Lois.

"Would you like some peaches, Lois" he offers.

Jonathan, unable to contain himself, bursts out laughing, well aware of what people from his neck of the woods refer to as peaches.

At this moment, Clark is extremely thankful Lois has never developed heat vision, or Lex and his father would surely be dead.

Martha coughs, hoping to signal to her husband that he needs to cool it.

Trying to be a gracious host, despite the chaos rampant in the room, Martha picks up the plate of chicken, ready to serve her bewildered guest. "Can I get you a piece, Lex?"

Jonathan, trying desperatly to obey his wife, puts his fist to his mouth, hoping to hold in his laughter.

"A breast?" Lex says sheepishly, two words that cause Lois' knuckles to crack, and Jonathan's damn to break. Banging his hand against the table he releases a belly laugh, no longer able to hold in his amusement.

Clark cringes, waiting to see who Lois is going to take out first, his keen eyes seeing her fork being squeezed in her hand like a weapon.

Lex takes the piece of chicken from Martha, not sure what he said, but well aware it was a hot button.

Trying to smooth over the chaotic freight train that seems to running through her kitchen full steam, Martha pushes the bowl of potatoes at Lex, saying "they might need a pinch of salt."

Reaching across the table and scooping three heaping spoonfuls of mashed potatoes on his plate, Martha treats Lex like a child, needing to feel like she has some control of the situation.

Returning to her chair, she places the bowl down, snapping her fingers sharply to get Chloe's attention. "Lex needs salt."

Chloe's eyes widen, instantly realizing the salt shaker might be just the reflective surface she needs to see her battle wound. Picking up the shaker she sees the mirror like silver is obscured by a few granuals clinging to the lid. Working for her own gain, she licks the lid clean, paying no regard to Martha's jaw that just hit the floor.

Squinting her eyes, she peers into the hole ridden lid, before deflating and handing the salt to Lex at her side.

Using two fingers, Lex takes the shaker, placing it on the table far away from his plate.

Lois lets her eyes move from Lex, to Clark to Jonathan, her jaw clenching as her knuckles whiten around the fork. About to pounce, she feels a tickling at her legs. She turns slowly to Lex and glares.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, Richie Rich," Lois sneers.

Lex throws his hands up plastering the most innocent look he can across his own face.

Lois still feels the tickling. Pushing back from the table she peers down to see Chloe reaching down under the table, stretching her hand out for Lois's purse.

"Chloe!" Lois calls, startling Chloe enough to make her fall out of her chair, landing fully under the table. "What are you doing down there?" Lois asks.

"I found your purse!" Chloe exclaims, "I need your compact."

Chloe begins to crawl out from under the table. She loses her balance and has to grab on to something to keep from falling over. That something happens to be Lex's crotch.

Lex tries to jump back, but Chloe has quite the grip, holding so hard that Lex squeals.

"Getting a little fresh with my cousin, aren't you?" Lois asks.

"I didn't...she..." Lex stammers.

"What's the matter, a little jealous?" Clark asks, delighting for a moment that Lois's anger has been defelcted. Unfortuenately for him, it was a tactical misfire.

Lois retightens her grip around the fork, staring down Clark. Clark panics and decides to redierect her anger again.

"Dad laughed at your melons!" Clark says pointing down to Jonathan.

"Melons?" Lois asks angrily.

"You know, your peaches," Clark corrects himself.

"Peaches?" Lois asks more angrily.

"Do you mean her rack?" Lex asks, struggling to help Chloe up from under the table.

"I think he means hooters," Jonathan adds.

Chloe's holding on to Lex's pants pockets to pull herself up. Slipping, her face dives right into Lex's crotch. Lex jumps back, his arms swinging wildly, one smacking Lois across the face. Startled, she instictively dives the fork towards her attacker, burying the four prongs squarely into Lex's thigh.

"Jesus!" Lex screams in pain.

"Jesus!" Chloe exclaims, the compact pointed at the large bruise on her forehead. "I have a melon on my head!"

"Let's not start that again!" Martha barks, rounding the table to tend to Lex. She glares back to Clark and Jonathan who are awkwardly standing next to eachother. Sheepishly they point accusatory fingers at each other.

Clark and Jonathan help Lex limp towards the passenger's side of the Kent's truck. Athick white maxi pad is taped to his bare thigh, his pants having been cut off high enough to reveal his boxers.

"I'm sorry I didn't have any bandages," Martha says, swatting the two girls who are about to die laughing. "That should be absorbant enough to get you there," she reassures him.

"Better hope you're not having a heavy day there, stud," Lois says grinning.

Lex takes a look back at the two young cousins standing on the porch.

"Watch yourself, those two are wild ones," Lex warns.

"I can handle it," Clark reassures, beat red with embarassment.

"Don't worry Lex. Smallville Medical Center will patch you up in a jiff," Jonathan says.

"Yeah, with as much as you're in there, Dad, they should offer frequent flyer miles or something," Clark jokes.

Lex smiles, happy that Clark finds levity in the situation. Clark shuts the door so his dad can pull away.

The back tires spin in the driveway, kicking up gravel. A few pebbles hit Clark's boot, which he looks down at. Next to his boot, is a small, glowing red stone.

"Coming, Smallville?" Lois asks from the porch, Martha and Chloe rounding the door into the house.

Clark looks down at the stone, then back up at Lois.

He smiles.

The end?


End file.
